Chapter 74: Only I Cultivate Chapter 74: I Cultivate Myself

·

·

·

Protagonist:

Chen Yi

Chen Yi waved his hand, summoned a waiter, and asked in a low voice, "Who is the beauty beside Mr. Mark?"

While speaking, two 20-dollar green bills were handed over.

Even if the deputy manager were here, let alone not being here, he couldn't stop a 40-dollar tip.

The envoy quickly pocketed it and said in a low voice, "She is Catherine, the second daughter of the president of Merrill Lynch Bank, a New York socialite."

Chen Yi made a strange smile and said fraudulently, "Mark just came from the Vatican not long ago, kid, you're really impressive."

"America likes Italy," the waiter said with a smile as he walked away.

The Vatican, however, is on Italian soil.

Chen Yi put on a look of sudden realization, his brain desperately turning.

Merrill Lynch Bank is one of the world's five major investment banks; in terms of strength, it is slightly inferior to Morgan Stanley and Goldman Sachs, but it is still a colossus. Its subsidiary BlackRock Merrill Lynch is a world-class investment management company, controlling assets of 1 trillion US dollars, absolutely a lever capable of moving the Earth.

For such a world-class bank, the economic resources it can mobilize internationally are already enough to rival emerging countries like China, and its influence on Wall Street in New York far surpasses that of China.

For some weaker countries, even if they mobilize political resources, they may not necessarily be able to defeat these Wall Street sharks.

With such enormous power and interests around them, any conspiracy or trick is normal, and Chen Yi unconsciously associated toward the direction of conspiracies and tricks.

The Vatican people, however, have a tradition of being malicious. Their desire for amassing wealth can be seen one or two points from the indulgence scrolls.

If the group that most desires wealth in the East is eunuchs, and the group that most desires wealth in the West is Jews, then the group that most desires wealth in the world should be the Vatican people.

Relying on the Papal State's golden signboard, the Church adopted various means to expand its power. When successful, they often seized a large amount of benefits; when failed, they would sneakily push the responsibility onto Italy—as if every person of the Papal State were Italian.

If it weren't for his own improper background, Chen Yi might have stepped forward to chat with Mark and thus confirm his identity.

Now he could only remember his appearance, snap his fingers, and call the waiter to pay the bill.

A burly fellow, like an American football player, suddenly crashed in from the doorway.

It was nearly the end of dinner time; the poor deputy manager tried to stop him but was knocked to the ground, becoming a floor rag.

Several people exclaimed in surprise, and the sound of the crowd standing up and making way rose and fell.

"Wait a moment." Chen Yi was no longer in a hurry to pay the bill; he sat there at ease to watch the show, and handed the waiter 20 dollars on the side.

The latter also stood aside at ease and cleverly introduced, "This is Catherine's traditional boyfriend. A substitute strong hitter for the Yankees."

It was all simple English; Chen Yi understood about seventy or eighty percent and couldn't help but say, "This guy weighs 300 pounds, right? What does traditional boyfriend mean?"

"They are open." The waiter used the word open.

Chen Yi understood and threw him another 20 dollars, saying, "Go open a bottle of champagne for me; I want to watch carefully."

The waiter looked embarrassed and hesitated, saying, "Do you have a passport or ID card?"

He looked young-faced, obviously not of drinking age.

Chen Yi searched his pockets and simply threw him the last few 20-dollar bills in his hand, saying, "Get good champagne. Half a bottle or two glasses."

"No problem." The waiter said nothing more and resolutely walked toward the kitchen.

This is a restaurant; if it were a hotel, even if you wanted to wear hemp clothing or smoke flax cigarettes, the doorman could get them for you.

The golden world of capitalism has long defined the price of rules.

The champagne arrived quite timely; just as it was delivered to the table, two foreigners, under the guidance of a bunch of nonsense, began physical collision.

One was a 300-pound burly strong hitter who treated steroids as food, the other a standard Italian handsome man in a custom suit; it sounded like a banquet performance program where the former devoured the latter, but unexpectedly, things were not at all like that.

Only saw the extremely angry strong hitter, with a restrained attitude, raised his left arm and hammered toward the handsome foreigner's shoulder.

The latter raised both hands, turned slightly, and a cool breeze brushed past the suit.

The strong hitter turned and swung his hand, only to see the handsome foreigner was already behind his buttocks, so he had to turn around with effort.

Mark took two small shuffling steps, his suit tails fluttering, and once again flashed to his right hand weak side.

Chen Yi immediately sat up straight.

He was no longer an urban youth who knew nothing. After special training from Holy Knight Adult, he could tell at a glance what was special about this handsome foreigner.

This kind of movement agility, dynamic visual observation sensitivity, at least at the level of Body Technique Level 4-5, equivalent to his current ability.

Within the limit of Level 9 Body Technique, Level 5 Body Technique is already the level of a high-ranking knight. On the battlefield, such knights are mostly centurions, the backbone of the military.

And on Earth, such a person is either a professional athlete or a hidden expert of the martial world; being connected with the Vatican is intriguing.

The strong hitter was stunned for a moment, then attacked two more times, both dodged, and finally became angry from embarrassment, picking up a chair and smashing it over.

This naturally disturbed other guests; Chen Yi was closest and first suffered the disaster of the fish pond. The chair beside him was swept away, and that strong hitter even wanted to snatch his chair.

Chen Yi naturally wouldn't allow it; he stretched out a hand and pinched the fellow's wrist, then pushed him out forcefully, warning, "Don't bother me, do your play well."

The first sentence was spoken in English, the latter in Chinese.

The Strength Scroll he tore open upon entering hasn't expired yet; 110 kilograms plus his own strength, absolute strength exceeds 200. Not to mention a 300-pound big man, even an ox could be made to swing its head.

The strong hitter didn't notice and staggered backward.

He hadn't shown any reaction yet, but the woman who was the fuse of the dispute exclaimed first: "Chinese kung fu?"

It seemed that even if Chen Yi didn't eat piles of Green Breath Berries, she would still develop a good feeling for him.

This sentence was like pouring oil on the fire; the strong hitter roared loudly and actually lowered his body and charged over—a standard American football tackle.

If he caught him solidly, his tendons and bones would surely go soft, turning him into a Texas person-dragger.

Chen Yi glared at that socialite; she was truly a troublemaker—whether in words or appearance.

At the same time, he also noticed the expression of the foreigner Mark, and suddenly realized that he could see the other's technique, so the other could inevitably see his own.

But he absolutely couldn't let the strong hitter tackle him, so he could only, under everyone's eyes, twist his body and push aside, using his habitual body technique training movement to lead the force away.

Then he kicked his fat butt hard, saying: "I told you not to bother me."

Strong Stick Hand's own momentum, plus the force Chen Yi gave him, made him unable to stop his steps, rushing forward wildly until he slammed into the wine cabinet in front, making a "clang" sound.

Unfortunately, few people went to watch his bear stance, while more were applauding Chen Yi.

The movements honed over thousands of hours were especially smooth and good-looking, and with the relatively disparate stature, many stood up to cheer.

Chen Yi smiled slightly, returning knight salutes to those around him.

The ladies' applause grew louder.

Mark showed a cautious expression, carefully recalling the movements just now.

The alarm wailed "woo woo" outside the door.

Two police officers in military uniforms rushed in, saw it was a fight, just put their hands on their guns without drawing them.

Strong Stick Hand clutched his head, scrambled up from the ground in one roll, glared with fist-sized eyeballs and grunted "hmp", then took out his mobile phone to make a call.

As a New York celebrity, he had certain privileges.

The police uncle glanced at it, pretended not to know, but directed Chen Yi, shouting loudly: "Stand against the wall."

The tone was stern, but no force was used.

Everyone suddenly became noisy, many explaining to the police uncle what had just happened.

For the various gentlemen and ladies present, the phrase "bringing trouble upon oneself" was rarely associated with themselves. Such a likable young man deserved better treatment.

Mark didn't know what psychology he was in, suddenly walked up to Chen Yi, smiling: "Hello, I am Mark, an Italian, thank you for your help."

"Speak a little slower." Chen Yi politely nodded, observing his surroundings, while planning an escape route.

He wasn't too worried; relying on the combat power of the two uniformed police officers, in such a chaotic restaurant, he had a seventy or eighty percent chance of leaving.

Mark noticed this, immediately said: "I have some connections, perhaps I can save you some trouble."

He was slightly more enthusiastic than usual; his thought was because the other party resolved the siege, he certainly never expected there would be Green Breath Berries, this kind of fruit that produces good feelings.

"Oh, thank you then." Chen Yi did not refuse help because the other party was a foreigner; he changed to a relaxed expression, and asked again: "Are you from Wall Street?"

Mark laughed, saying: "No."

The foreign girl beside him answered actively: "Mark is a priest."

In his words, there was quite a smug tone. It seemed that settling a priest could better demonstrate his charm.

Now Chen Yi suspected even more his relationship with that handsome foreigner Stanik.

Mark seemed somewhat dissatisfied that his identity was exposed, but couldn't show it, smiling at Chen Yi: "Are you here in New York for tourism?"

"So I need to go back quickly." Chen Yi shrugged, with no intention of introducing himself at all.

Mark chuckled, generously saying: "Hope there's a chance to meet next time."

Saying this, holding a business card, he went to talk to that police officer.

After a while, Chen Yi was allowed to leave the restaurant. The socialite seemed quite interested in him, reluctantly leaving her phone number.

Returning to Times Square, it was already afternoon in the United States.

Chen Yi carefully slipped into the phone booth, then smoothly arrived at the Saint Qiao Kingdom.

The mages' greetings were reassuring.

"Put the things away first, Grendel, come here." Chen Yi waved to the Holy Knight.

The eight-foot tall man came quickly with a leaping posture, fast like a leaping brown bear: "Master."

"You say, if someone has the same body technique level as me, how long does he need to train?" Chen Yi paused, then added: "Without things like Divine Oil."

"You are currently at Body Technique Level 5." The Holy Knight thoughtfully said: "Without Divine Oil, one cannot continue practicing, and the effect of continuous practice is the best. To reach your level, it would take about 20 times the time. The actual time spent would be even longer."

He actually not only estimated the influence of Divine Oil, but also estimated the influence of body technique training methods.

Where would ordinary people have the chance to get a specially configured body technique training plan, and one designed by a Holy Knight no less.

Even though he had extraordinary talent back then and trained hard, reaching Body Technique Level 4-5 took him five or six years, let alone ordinary people.

"20 times the time." Chen Yi immediately calculated; he had used about 1000 hours for training, 20 times that is 20,000 hours. Without the subway's time-multiplying effect, even using 10 hours a day, it would take 2000 days.

That is 7 years.

If we also consider the technical differences that should exist in body training between Earth and the Saint Qiao Kingdom, then Mark would need at least 10 years of body technique training to reach a similar level.

Chen Yi couldn't help shaking his head; these Vatican people really didn't spare any expense.

Mark 10 years ago was just a teenager in his teens, starting to cultivate from that time, how much cost would it take?

With the profit return method of the 21st century, even old consortiums would no longer cultivate members like this. Only religious organizations like the Vatican still maintain a vigorous spirit of passing down.

The crystal screen made a "ding" sound; it was the mages' Classification Technique finishing the count, and a reminder that 2.47 million gold coins had been injected into the currency column.

The Holy Knight then interrupted his train of thought, saying: "Chen Master, continue today's training?"

"Okay." Chen Yi straightened his chest all at once.

Even if you train for 10 years, what of it? I only need a few months to catch up and surpass.

Whatever the Vatican wants to do!

He raised his head, saying: "Grendel, I want to be able to easily defeat a Body Technique Level 5 warrior in a short time."

"As you command!" Holy Knight Adult stood up like a warrior, with a firm tone.

……

Aside from word count: May 1st, that is, after 24:00 tonight, this book officially goes on sale. Readers who like this book, please leave monthly tickets for Zhi Niao Tun. Thank you here.

……